Lighting the Flame
This is the story of a man forged in fire, who abandoned himself for the greater good. This is the story of a man who fought in the name of peace and sanity, for the sake of all creation. This is the story of the Last Great Time War. By Styracosaurus Rider. Prologue The sky was aflame that night, as it had been for countless nights before. A terrible thunder crashed through the heavens, announcing the descent of yet another battle fleet on the charred and smoking earth. The ground itself was stained with the blood and tears of tens of thousands, innocent and guilty alike. Some would have said that it was the apocalypse. But in reality, it was nothing more than a tiny, meaningless conflict; a child’s playground game; a battle that would come to nothing as part of a vast, endless War. This was his life now. He could never forget that. Through the rubble of vast skyscrapers, a Man emerged: hardened, ragged, and armed. Already he could see a platoon, gliding down the ruined streets and ready to kill. These Daleks were bright and untarnished; no doubt a newly engineered batch. The hatred in their single eye was coldly innocent, in a way. They had yet to experience the true horrors of the War that the Man had faced every single day for as long as he could remember. As they swept closer, the Man chanced a glance at his surroundings. He could see other soldiers around him: some Time Lord, some Graxnix, some who-knows-what-else. It didn’t matter to him. He preferred to be alone. If nothing else, they would be a mere distraction for the enemy, and an opportunity for him. With a single “'EXTERMINATE!'” the first Dalek fired a shot, and a soldier dropped to the ground with a piercing scream and in a skeletal flare. Immediately, there was a hail of gunfire and explosions. The Man reached into his bag and pulled out a handheld missile. Cesium-coated, for good measure. A few moments later, the first Dalek blew open into a ball of flame and collapsed onto the street. Ducking under a stray plasma bolt, the Man continued to fight. One after another, Daleks and Time Lords alike fell and died in a screaming agony, becoming lost souls, never to be found again. No doubt they would be soon tallied up as numbers. Mere casualties. Not as irreplaceable lives. Soon, the Man was the last left standing. Another platoon of Daleks was already arriving; these ones were dirty and stained, veterans in the art of death and destruction. The Man pulled out a remote from his pocket. The remote was equipped with a large, mauve-colored button. And then he simply waited. The lead Dalek glided up to him. Its sensory globes were colored a pitch black, and a green light emanated from its eyestalk. Another new and supreme breed, to be eventually destroyed outright for imperfection. They were all the same, in the end. It glared at the Man in a clear expression of recognition and rage. The Man didn’t give it a chance to speak, and pushed the button on his remote. Around him, the remains of the city erupted. A wall of flame spread from the epicenter like a burning wave from the ocean; buildings collapsed into a grave of smoke and dust; and, with an alien cry of agony, each and every Dalek within half a kilometer was cooked from the inside out like frozen meat in an oven. When the carnage had subsided, the Man stood up. He had been protected from the blast, but he had still been knocked to his feet by the shockwave. He walked up to the lead Dalek. It was still alive, barely. Its crushed and mangled headpiece lay off to the side somewhere, and its midsection had been torn open to reveal the mutated creature within. It sat there bleeding, with its single eye closed shut. Yet it was impossible to feel sorry for it. The Man took a gun from his shoulder bag. He loaded it and aimed it directly at the creature. Upon hearing the clicking of the gun, the Dalek opened its eye and stared at the Man, the exact stare of recognition it had used before. “'DOC-TOR',” it whispered in an electronically treated voice of hatred. “That’s not my name,” the Man said. “Not anymore.” And the Man fired. After a couple seconds, he popped the shells out and put the gun away. And then he walked off, towards the next meaningless battle, towards the next dying soul who would never be rescued. One day the War would end. But it was not today. Although it was hard to believe, the Man knew that he was not always like this. There was a time where the War had not yet begun. There was even a time when he was happy. 1: Genesis The Doctor was not happy. Around him there was nothing but fog, and rocks, and some more fog on top of all that. There were no computers or shiny walls or comfortable rooms in sight. He was even outside, which was not where we wanted to be at all. This was definitely not the Nerva, or even a space station of any sort.As you may have already guessed, this is the opening scene from Genesis of the Daleks. Many people consider this to be the official start of the Time War, so I thought that it would only be right to include it. As there was nothing much else to do and it was somewhat cold, he started walking in no particular direction. Sarah and Harry were nowhere in sight. Hopefully they were nearby somewhere, not getting themselves lost or into trouble. Because the Doctor had a feeling why they weren’t on the space station, and it wasn’t a very good feeling. “Ah.” The Doctor turned his head toward the voice, and saw a figure in the fog, dressed all in black. Typical garb of the Celestial Intervention Agency. His face looked familiar, although the Doctor couldn’t tell from where. But it was clear that his simple journey to Nerva was not going to be as simple as he had hoped. “Welcome, Doctor,” the Time Lord said, and smiled. “What’s going on?” the Doctor asked him. “Don’t you realize how dangerous it is to intercept a transmit beam?” “Oh, come, Doctor, not with our techniques. We Time Lords transcended such simple mechanical devices when the universe was less than half its present size.” The man was bragging. Definitely from the Celestial Intervention Agency. “Look...whatever I’ve done for you in the past, I’ve more than made up for. I will not tolerate this continual interference in my life!” “Continual?” The Time Lord started walking off, and the Doctor followed. “We pride ourselves; we seldom interfere in the affairs of others.” “Except mine.” “You, Doctor, are a special case. You enjoy the freedom we allow you. In return, occasionally, not continually, we ask you to do something for us.” “I won’t do it. Whatever it is, I refuse.” “Daleks.” The Doctor stopped in his tracks, and considered the implications of the word. “Daleks?” he repeated. Whoever this other Time Lord was, he had clearly just played his trump card, and the Doctor knew this quite well. He really didn’t want to get involved in a situation if this was true, but then again, the consequences could be disastrous if he didn’t get involved. He decided to take the bait. “Tell me more.” The Time Lord looked him in the eye. “We forsee a time when they will have destroyed all other lifeforms and become the dominant creature in the universe.” “That’s possible. Tell on.” “We’d like you to return to Skaro at a point in time before the Daleks evolved.” “Do you mean avert their creation?” “Or, affect their genetic development so that they evolve into less aggressive creatures.” “Hm.” Already, the possibilities were adding up in the Doctor’s mind. He decided to stay neutral, for the moment. “That’s feasible,” he said. “Alternatively,” the other Time Lord continued, “if you learn enough about their very beginnings, you might discover some inherent weakness.” That sounded better. If it prevented the Time Lords from meddling about in his own affairs any longer, then it was very feasible indeed. “Alright. Just one more time.” The other Time Lord was smiling. “You’ll do it,” he said, as he no longer had to ask. “Yes. If you’ll let me have the space-time coordinates, I’ll set the TARDIS for Skaro.” “There’s no need for that, Doctor.” “Hm?” “You’re here. This is Skaro,” the Time Lord said, gesturing at the wasteland around him. “What?” the Doctor said, looking around at the fog in bewilderment. “We thought it would save time if we assumed your agreement.” Not only do the Time Lords throw him and his companions light years off course and set them down on Skaro to annihilate the Daleks without any means of protection, but they do it to save him the trouble. How typical. The Time Lord held up a golden bracelet, decorated with some strange pattern. “What’s this?” the Doctor asked, cautiously. “A time ring. It will return you to the TARDIS when you’ve finished here.” Not only do the Time Lords throw him and his companions light years off course and set them down on Skaro to annihilate the Daleks without any means of protection, but they leave the TARDIS behind. Things just kept getting better and better. The Doctor looked down and took the time ring, somewhat reluctantly. “There’s just one thing,” the other Time Lord said. “What’s that?” “Be careful not to lose it. That time ring is your lifeline,” the Time Lord said nonchalantly, as if it was a little detail hardly worth mentioning. “Good luck, Doctor.” The Doctor looked up again, but the other Time Lord had vanished without a sound. “Don’t just disappear!” the Doctor shouted into the fog. “What about Sarah and Harry?” Nothing. Sighing to himself, the Doctor adjusted his hat and started walking again. Leave it to the Time Lords to assign a gigantic job on him. Happened every time. ---- As soon as Ferain arrived in the citadel, he started walking down the metallic hallways towards the waiting auditorium. He briefly glanced through a circular window as he passed by – there was still war and chaos raging on Gallifrey. Soon he arrived in the auditorium, where the others were waiting. The auditorium wasn’t the most ideal place to hold this meeting, but many of the Celestial Intervention Agency intelligence centers had been breached, and this place was standing open at the time. It was standing open for a reason – the sector had been abandoned since the start of the war and its structural integrity was compromised, but it would probably never be fixed. Ferain could see General Lobel standing there, looking as grim as always, alongside some other fellow agents. “Alright,” Lobel grumbled. “Start from the beginning.” Ferain cleared his throat, and began to speak. “As you know, the Celestial Intervention Agency was assigned to find a way to remove the Daleks from existence at their source, through whatever means necessary. It’s a risky attempt to eradicate an entire species from time, especially one so expansive and dangerous. But I for one am willing to face the consequences.” “I’ve heard the risks before,” Lobel said. “What did you actually try to do?” “...Well, we decided to target one of their major weaknesses in their early years. Originally, their casings were dependent on static electricity to operate, and they needed receiving dishes to move beyond the confines of their Skarosian cities. They got around that obviously, and eventually they just used an internal power supply. But my colleagues and I were able to travel back to sabotage their cities. Without static electricity at their early stage, eventually they just all withered and died.” “And yet our planet is still burning.” “Let me explain,” Ferain added hastily. “Somehow, it...didn’t work. Maybe Daleks from the Time War came and undid it, maybe Davros had other secrets that we didn’t know about. Either way, their history was changed. Static electricity was no longer a limitation. They started out more powerful.” “Wonderful.” “But we had to try a different method. Do you know about the Doctor?” Lobel wrinkled his face. “Isn’t he the pompous one with the ridiculous clothes? Went on trial a couple hundred years back? You didn’t trust that idiot with eliminating the Daleks, did you?” “It was an earlier incarnation,” Ferain stressed. “But I assigned him to do the job. Destroy them, make them less aggressive, set them back a thousand years – whatever it took.” “And did he succeed?” “I only came back a couple minutes ago. Apparently, all for naught,” Ferain said, as he listened to the rumbling of war outside. “I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do.” Lobel sat, and said nothing for a while, apparently deep in thought. “The Doctor went back to the moment of the Daleks’ creation, correct?” he finally said. “As close as it mattered, yes.” “And would the Daleks have learned of the Time Lords from this encounter?” “Possibly,” Ferain said. “The Doctor’s a talkative fool, but when it comes to Daleks he sobers up and puts his mind to it. Even so, they might have figured out his identity through other means.” “The first encounter, then,” Lobel said. “The first shot in the war.” “Sorry?” “Nothing,” Lobel said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. I doubt there’s anything we can do about it now.” He stood up, and shook Ferain’s hand. “Get yourselves back to the CIA. I think we’re done here.” He walked off without another word. 2 Author Footnotes Category:Styracosaurus Rider Category:Fanfiction Category:Stories featuring the Last Great Time War Category:Stories featuring Daleks Category:Stories featuring the War Doctor